Of Gilded Cages and Broken Birds
by Mademoiselle Sinistra
Summary: M for Mature Content! Alternate Universe Story involving kidnapping, slavery, and bondage UPDATE: Chapter Three
1. Memoirs of a Broken Soul

**Of Gilded Cages and Broken Birds**

**By: Mademoiselle Sinistra**

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything from _Robin Hood._

* * *

**Chapter One: Memoirs of a Broken Soul**

It's cold. It's always cold in the dark. No clothes make it colder. I don't deserve clothes. That's what they say. _'Whores don't need clothes.' _That's what they say. _'Whore'_ they call me and worse. I guess it's true. Master says I am very nearly a proper whore. He says it like it's a good thing, but I'm not sure. I do not like Master's lessons, but he says they're necessary. Master says what makes me a good whore is that I prefer the lessons over the punishments. I've tried to tell him I don't like either, but that only made me get more punishment, so now I keep quiet. Master also says that a good whore knows when to keep his mouth shut and when to open it. The dungeon is where I am sent to be punished. My fingers have been broke-again. They hurt tremendously, but I've had worse pains than this. I cannot remember how long I have been here, nor quite where 'here' is. I've lost hope of a rescue. My friends cannot find me here. Master says if they knew what I had become, they wouldn't come, anyway.

"_No one can love a filthy whore. Whores don't deserve respect, kindness, friends, or love,"_ Master said whenever I spoke of a rescue. Or _her. _

I can no longer recall her name, but she is the loveliest woman I can ever remember laying eyes upon. I believe that I love her, but she cannot love me now. Not since I've been _here. _I wish I'd be released from the dungeon soon. I do not like it down here. Actually, I do not like _any _part of this whole building, but pretty much anywhere is better than down here. That is the only reason I ever obey at all. To avoid being put down here in the cold and dark. Slowly, my body succumbs to sleep.

* * *

_I dream of __**her. **__We are in the forest that has become merely a faint and vague memory and she is laughing very prettily. I forget what she's laughing about, but I do not care. At least she is laughing and is happy. That is good enough for me. _

* * *

The dream ends much too quickly, as I am taken back to my room. It's a very nice and richly decorated room, but to me, it is every much a cage as the dungeon. Only homier. A gilded cage for a trained bird. Soon, the Master arrives.

"Welcome back, my little whore-to-be," he said, as nice as he can sound.

I looked down at the floor. Never look Master in the eye unless he says so.

"How was your little visit to the dungeon?" he asked.

"Instructive, Master," I said, quietly.

"Good," replied Master, "what do you have to say to me?"

"Sorry, Master," I said, "I was bad. Please forgive me."

"Yes, I forgive you," said Master, "if you promise never to do it again."

"I promise," I answered.

* * *

Now that I'm no longer being punished, Master has decided to give more lessons. I inwardly shuddered when Master brought out the wine bottle. It was empty, of course. Master stood in front of me, expectantly. I dropped down onto my hands and knees, just like Master had taught me. I stared down at the red carpet and tried not to think of what was to come next. If I didn't think about it, I wouldn't clench up and it wouldn't hurt as much.

Master finished the lesson.

"On your knees," he said, "let's see how well you remember this lesson."

I did as Master instructed. He undid his velvet breeches and let them drop to his ankles. I knew what this lesson was. I scooted closer and gently took his manhood in my hands. I bent my head close and put it in my mouth. I pleasured him just how he liked, as I've been taught. No biting, choking, or gagging. Master put one hand on my shoulder and lightly ran the other through my short hair. He thrust his hips forward, sending his length deeper into my mouth. He moaned in pleasure, as I did my task. The combination of sucking and licking that drove Master wild with ecstasy soon had him exploding in my mouth. As Master withdrew, I swallowed, as I knew he wanted me to and managed to keep it down. I was starved for a week the last time I got sick on the floor. Master pulled up his breeches and gently patted my cheek.

"Do you realize how well you pleasure others with your mouth?" he asked.

Mutely, I shook my head.

"You do it so very well. You should be proud. Not many whores give pleasure as well as you," he said, "it is one of your few true skills."

"Thank you, Master," I said, in response, though I did not enjoy the compliment.

* * *

_That night, the Master's compliment about skills provided me with a dream. In this dream, the only skill people cared about me having was shotting an arrow and hitting a target from fifty paces. I was the best at archery and had few rivals. Seldom I had met a man (or woman) who was my equal. Everyone in the land knew my name._

* * *

But, that was just a dream and now I am just a nameless whore who is a skilled oral pleasure-giver.


	2. Taking Free Away

**Chapter Two: Taking Free Away**

_(13 Months Before Chapter One)_

Robin of Locksley had been captured and taken to Nottingham Castle. Robin was in his own cell in the castle's dungeon. The Sheriff had popped in once soon after he'd been brought down there to mock him and tell him he'd be hung in the morning. Robin had pretty much tuned him out. He'd been caught and taken to the dungeon and threatened with a hanging so many times, he had the Sheriff's entire collection of monologues memorized by now. He just sat down and proceeded to wait for a rescue from his friends.

A few hours had passed, and Robin was still in the dungeon. The Sheriff had returned, but this time, he was _not _alone. A man Robin had never met before was with the Sheriff. This man had long blonde hair that was nearly white and cold icy blue eyes. He had a haughty disdainful stare that Robin knew quite well and wore rich velvets and fur.

"I do not see what is so damned special about this man, Vaysey," he drawled in a voice that matched his stare, "its just a prisoner."

The duo had reached Robin's cell now. The blonde man slowly appraised him before turning back to the Sheriff.

"Oh, yes, I see it now," the blonde said softly, "quite the speciman, indeed. A mite skinny, perhaps, but it does not detract. What do you intend to do with him?"

"He's going to be hanged tomorrow," said the Sheriff, sounding very pleased.

"Pity," commented the blonde, "such a waste. How old is he, Vaysey?"

"Man enough to fight in the Crusades," replied the Sheriff.

"Yes, I was about to comment on that point," agreed the blonde man, "he looks like he's seen battle, or partakes in regular exercise. Doesn't look like a farmer."

"No, not a farmer," said the Sheriff, "that'd be too common. He's of noble birth."

"Hmm," remarked the blonde, "you wouldn't mind my taking him off your hands, would you?"

The Sheriff looked his companion over, curiously.

"What would _you _want _him _for?" he asked.

"I have far more uses for him in mind than _you, _Vaysey," replied the blonde, "trust me on that."

"I can believe that," agreed the Sheriff, "although, I cannot imagine he'd submit willingly. Quite the insubordinate."

"Those are always the best ones," said the blonde, "they're fun to break and once they're broken, it's oh so much sweeter when they _do _submit."

"I assume you're willing to pay for him?" asked the Sheriff.

"But of course," replied the blonde, "how much do you want for him?"

* * *

Robin couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"I will _not _be haggled over like a steer," he said.

"Looks like you _are,_" said the Sheriff, with an amused smirk.

To the blonde, he said, "£40."

The blonde man and the Sheriff argued over price for several minutes, before reaching a decision.

"I'd like to take him away secretly," said the blonde.

"That can be arranged," said the Sheriff.

* * *

Alone again, Robin hoped Much and the others would come soon, before he was taken with the blonde man. What he wanted him for, Robin wasn't certain, but assumed it wasn't anything good. These situations rarely turned out well. _What was keeping them?_

Later that night, the Sheriff was back. Alone, this time. He held a large bundle in his arms.

"What do you want, Vaysey?" asked Robin.

"Take off your clothes and put these on," ordered the Sheriff, sticking the bundle through the cell bars and inside Robin's cell. Robin's eyes narrowed.

"Why?" he asked.

"Just do it," said the Sheriff, "just clothes."

* * *

The clothes that the Sheriff had given him to wear smelled extremely foul, but he decided his own probably didn't smell much better. He wondered what the Sheriff had done with his clothes, and why he made him change. It didn't really make any sort of sense at all. Again, he wondered where his men were. They should've been there already. He should be back in the forest, not this stone dungeon. He eventually fell into a restless sleep, trying to determine where his missing friends were.

Robin was awoken well before dawn the next morning. His wrists and ankles were chained and he was gagged. The guards doing this were greatly amused by Robin's reactions. He was then taken out of the castle, not by the front door and into an awaiting carriage. He was not told where he was being taken, but he knew his destination would be to the blonde friend of the Sheriff.

* * *

Robin had reached his destination. The blonde man certainly had a lot of money, but he already knew _that _from the man's clothes and how much he'd paid for Robin. Paid. He's been bought and sold like he were no more than a piece of meat. It was enough to make him sick. He was roughly taken inside the man's large and imposing home. He was taken up several flights of stairs and inside a large and richly decorated room. The blonde man was seated on the large bed in the center of the room.

"Don't be quite that rough," snapped the blonde, "we don't want him getting bruises."

"What do you want with me?" asked Robin.

"To help me in my business."

"Which is?"

"Pleasure," replied the blonde.

* * *

Robin hoped he didn't mean what he thought he meant.

"What?" he asked.

"You're going to be my whore," said the blonde man.

"I am not a whore," said Robin.

"You will be."

"I'd rather die first."

"Oh, I can make you wish for death, but if I actually execute you, that'll be a loss of money," countered the man.

"Will you at least tell me your name?" asked Robin.

"You shall call me 'Master'," spoke the blonde, "that is all the name you need know."

Robin silently vowed to _never _call this man 'master'.

"If you do not tell me your name, I will not tell you mine," said Robin.

"Good," said the man, "I do not wish to know it. You are my whore and that is what I shall call you."

"I am _not _a whore," replied Robin.

He was starting to get irritated by this conversation.

* * *

The blonde ordered his men to knock Robin to his knees.

"Your first lesson, _whore, _is how to give pleasure with your mouth," the blonde told Robin, as he started to unlace his leggings.

When the man had his leggings pooled around his ankles, he said, "Begin."

Robin refused. After a signal from the blonde, the men forced Robin's mouth open. The blonde put his manhood in Robin's mouth.

"Suck," he ordered.

Robin bit him. The blonde yelped and and withdrew. Robin had a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

"That's what you get," he said.

The blonde backhanded him across the face. Robin tumbled backwards.

"Take him to the dungeon," said the blonde.

* * *


	3. Continuing Education

****

Chapter Three: Continuing Education

_Back to Original Timeline_

I dreamed of _her _again. I wish I could remember her name. She deserves at least that much. I was awoken in the morning by the arrival of food. Master's servant girls brought in the food. They wore silk dresses and were beautiful, but not as beautiful as _her. _After they left, I looked at what they brought. Apple slices, warm bread and water. It wasn't much, but I ate it all anyway. I had gotten used to being hungry. It's not a very bothersome feeling. My fingers have finally healed, but they are somewhat crooked and pain me still from time to time.

After the dishes were taken away, Master entered with his men.

"Today, we are going to expand upon one of your lessons," Master said, "you are going to pleasure others besides me. On your knees."

I got on my knees on the floor and waited for further instruction. Master signaled one of his men to come forward. He did and dropped his leggings to the floor.

"Pleasure him, Whore," ordered Master.

I shook my head. I did not want to pleasure this man.

"Do it," said Master, threateningly.

Still, I refused.

"Take him to the dungeon," said Master, "teach him his lesson."

* * *

The man in front of me put his leggings back in place and I was taken down to the dungeon. In my cell, I was held flat on my back. They also held my mouth open and the man pulled his leggings down again and shoved himself in my mouth. I pleasured him til he was soft and another took his place. Over and over for most of the night, I pleasured the men who worked for my Master. They moaned and gasped their pleasure. They also spoke.

"That's real good, Whore!"

"Suck faster, Slut! That's it!"

"You pleasure me better than my wife!"

I was not allowed to swallow their seed. Instead, they released it over my naked body. That was part of my punishment, it seemed. I had to spend the night in my cold dark cell, covered in sticky. I was reminded of the first time Master wanted me to pleasure him. I had bitten him when he forced himself inside my mouth. He was not happy about that and sent me to the dungeon. That was my first trip to the dungeon, but it certainly was _not _the last.

* * *

_In my cell, the men entered. Several had me pinned to the floor on my back, and others took my manhood in their mouths and sucked. When they had finished, a man entered with a knife with a red hot blade. He squatted down and took me in one hand, holding the knife in the other. He cut me with the knife, and now I am a eunuch._

* * *

When the men were finished getting pleasure from me, I was turned over, so I was face down on the floor. They positioned me to be on all fours, with my bottom sticking out in the air. Still, many strong hands held me in place. One of the men walked behind me. I heard him spit, and then, something wet entered me. I think it was one of his fingers. He moved it in and out a few times, like Master with his bottle. Soon, he added a second, and a third, until his whole hand was inside me. That hurt worse than the bottle, although the bottle no longer pains me, unless Master wants it to. The men all enjoyed watching the other man put his fist inside me.

I am alone for the rest of the night. I am not fed while in the dungeon, so the only thing I ate today was the morning meal. I will not have a morning meal tomorrow, but if I am good, I will have dinner and supper. I'll try to be good.

* * *

"_You made a mistake in Nottingham, hmm? Trying to be the peasants' hero."_

"_Well, why don't you be the peasants' hero and show me how its done?" I suggested._

"_Shall we have a meeting in the morning to discuss it?" asked the older man, "a clue: no. In the morning, you shall hang."_

* * *

I was eating a supper of slightly warm porridge, when Master entered my room. He sat on my bed and lightly ran his fingers through my hair. I eyed him warily.

"Is there something I can do for you, Master?" I asked, hoping he'd answer in the negative.

"Perhaps later," Master said, without much interest.

I breathed a silent sigh of relief and resumed eating, trying to ignore the attention Master was giving me. He gently stroked my right cheek with a single finger, before he softly kissed the back of my neck. Then, he rubbed my shoulders.

* * *

When I had finished my meager supper, I turned to face my Master. He had returned to stroking my hair. This kind of attention was unusual for him.

"Are you happy here, Whore?" he asked me.

"Yes, Master," I lied.

I knew better than to tell the truth.

That seemed to placate him.

"Soon, you will leave my house," spoke Master.

I tried not to look _too _happy at the thought.

"I won't be letting you go," continued Master, "you'll start working for me. Finally repay that money I paid for you."

That was _not _a happy thought, but its what he's been training me for.

* * *


End file.
